Preoccupation and Humiliation
by Blindgumby
Summary: Arthur has discovered something about himself. Merlin thinks he has discovered something entirely different. Merthur, Arthur/Merlin, Merlin/Arthur, MxA, Arlin, etc. M for a reason.


_Allow me to assist you, sire!_

The whole event is possibly the most embarassing so far in Arthur's life, and honestly he's glad his father isn't around to see it. Had he been, Arthur would be publicly chastized for it for the forseeable future, and Merlin would likely be sent to the pyre for...dear God... touching the crown prince of Camelot inappropriately. As it stands, Arthur just reddens and dismisses it as his manservant's usual stupidity. He's allowed to. He's the king now. It's kind of a relief, not having to have to stand up for Merlin for things that he's rather mad and embarassed about, but don't warrant punishment or death just the same.

Still, it haunts Arthur for days afterwards, complete mortification in front of all of his advisors, his pants falling about his thighs... His idiot manservant trying to help him hitch them back up, knocking them both to the floor in the process. Things like this aren't supposed to actually happen. He's read one of Leon's raunchier books, and things like that, slips in circumstance, happen there (i.e. the blushing maiden takes a tumble into a knight's lap) and they usually lead to sex. Which, no. That shouldn't be quite so appealing. Merlin's a scrawny git, he's got no waist, no hips, no breasts, no arse... well, actually that last one may not be entirely true... but no. Just no. Merlin isn't Gwen, so why the hell is this the picture Arthur paints for himself?

It shouldn't have even connected on that level for him, but it did, and he was half hard through the rest of that meeting. He shirked his kingly duties under the guise of mourning, slammed and bolted his door behind him, and shoved a hand down his pants, biting the knuckles on his other hand as he came moments later to...

To the thought of Merlin. Of all things.

And it becomes a habit. And just a little bit more difficult to look Merlin in the eye.

It's incredibly difficult to time a good wank when there's someone attending to you your every waking hour. It's even harder (no pun intended) when the person that inspires such... inappropriate preoccupation is the very person attending to you. He doesn't really know how he's hidden his fair share of spontaneous erections before his dick decided it only worked when he caught sight of Merlin's collarbones or his fingertips and remembers how they felt on his thighs, but now, this is just rediculous. He isn't a teenager, goddamn it.

He's woken up to Merlin's voice while rutting against his mattress more than once (because Merlin is a horrible servant and doesn't get that waking someone up during a sex dream and making a snide remark isn't how a typical peasant behaves), but somehow waking up in the middle of a Merlin related dream - specifically the reoccuring one where Merlin comes up behind him when his pants fall in that meeting, forces him against the table with one hand to the back of his neck, and eases him open and fucks him hard, his free hand alternating between Arthur's hip and Arthur's cock - just makes it that much worse.

He waits and he waits for life to get easier, for this arousal to stop spiking through him in the most inconvenient situations.

It doesn't.

And then one day, training, it begins to rain. Arthur dismisses the knights, but continues, punishing himself, purging those thoughts with brutal physical labor, lap after lap, clothing and skin caked with mud. He mutilates four of the training dummies and finally gives in when he can no longer hold his sword. He turns, and Merlin is there, like he always is, but for some reason it startles him. Merlin's tunic and neckercheif are clinging to his skin, his pants dangerously baggy, hair in his eyes. And he reaches out, and Arthur recoils, takes a step back, still panting with exertion.

He doesn't miss the hurt in Merlin's eyes.

"Your sword. And armor. I'll need to take them to the smith before they rust," Merlin says flatly, and Arthur drags the sword over, until it is in Merlin's reach wordlessly, then begins to fiddle with the straps and hooks on his armor, divesting himself of it and throwing it to the ground at Merlin's feet. He struggles for a second with his chainmail and Merlin says, "Let me help." But then he has it up and over his head and he adds it to the pile and stalks away.

A weaker man, a less honorable man than himself would've given over to that temptation at that point, pushed Merlin to the ground and opened him up, made him cry his name right there in the mud. It certainly doesn't keep him from thinking about it, but he waits until he gets to the privacy of his room before he allows himself to go into detail (the way Merlin's cheekbones would look smeared with mud, how his back would arch, how Arthur would peel away all of Merlin's soaked garments until he was strikingly pale in the dirt and the grass and Arthur would kiss every inch of that body, lick the rain away from his face, his nipples, the dip of his bellybutton, and yes, finally his cock, as he fingered him open and fucked him as slowly as he possibly could, until he got Merlin to say his name, _Arthur, _just as he always did when Arthur wasn't listening, only this time tinged with passion-).

Unfortunately, Merlin decides to barge in just before Arthur manages to even get fully hard, kneeling on the floor where he'd just sort of given up the struggle against his own body and desire.

"We need to talk about this," Merlin says, and Arthur is startled yet again by something that should be normal to him at this point: Merlin's frankness.

"About what?" Arthur asks, deciding noncholance is probably the best route to take until he figures out just how much Merlin knows. He pulls himself to his feet and almost immediately collapses into a sitting position on his bed.

"You know," Merlin replies with a wave of his hand, "I thought if this was how you were going to handle it, then I could just learn to deal with it, learn to be ignored, to not be touched, to be feared, for you to... to... flinch away from me. I understand how you must feel about me, and I'm honestly surprised you haven't sent me away or worse."

Arthur is momentarily distracted by the way Merlin gnaws at his bottom lip when he's searching for the right words, and how Merlin seems to think Arthur could send him away so easily, just because he wanted him. It hadn't even occured to him as an option, but yes, it could've been so easy to dismiss Merlin and focus once more on Gwen. To be the king everyone expected him to be. But he could never send Merlin away. He needs him.

He loves him.

"How could you possibly think I would do that? Send you away? It isn't your fault. None of this... but no, I could never. I need you, Merlin, at my side. You're my most trusted... you understand me in ways that..." Arthur buries his face in his hands and groans, "I never meant to make you question that, Merlin," he says, muffled, "But... it took some getting used to. It's so new to me, seeing you in this particular light."

"Oh," Merlin says, and then, after a pause, "So you aren't angry with me, then?"

Arthur laughs at how absurd this situation is becoming, "How could I be? And... and why would I be?"

Merlin raises an eyebrow at him, "Are we talking about the same thing?" he says slowly, carefully.

Arthur looks up at him, "What else would we be talking about?"

"Right. Well. You're ruining your duvet. And you could use a bath. I'll take your clothes and bedclothes for a wash and send someone to prepare you a bath. If that's alright," Merlin says, smiling at him.

"That would be excellent, actually," Arthur says, and he realizes that is that. He's told Merlin how he feels, and while he's given no indication that he feels the same, Merlin seems okay with it. It is out there in the open, and really, the mix of relief and disappointment is so exhilirating that he could kiss Merlin if he weren't almost certain he'd be slapped for his efforts. Still. As long as it is here between them, it probably needs to be said, to clear any lingering uncertainty. "But first," he says, halting Merlin at the door, "I need to say it. Out loud. I couldn't believe it at first, so I think... I think if I tell you, if I say it just once, I should be okay."

"Whatever you need," Merlin shrugs, and Arthur tries not to get any ideas about exactly what he needs, because if he does he may never let Merlin leave his bedroom. Instead, he swallows, says, "Well, come here, you idiot," and wobbles to his feet. He looks Merlin in the eye and reaches for his left hand, which he clasps in between both of his own.

He takes a deep breath.

"I think I'm in love with you, Merlin." He says, clear and proud, honest and unashamed.

Merlin goes pale and his hand goes clammy and Arthur immediately lets go and steps away.

"Ah, we were talking about entirely different things then, weren't we?" Arthur says weakly.

Merlin just stands there.

"I'm sorry, I..." Arthur clears his throat, "Well, obviously I've made a fool of myself, haven't I?"

"How could you possibly be that oblivious?" Merlin snaps at him, and he's off on a tangent, "I thought I finally had this great secret off my chest, thought you finally knew, I mean I bloody did it right in front of you and I thought you knew and just didn't want to say anything, maybe wanted to protect me or something like that, but no! You were too wrapped up in your own feelings to-" He cuts himself off by forcing a hand over his mouth. He takes a deep breath through his nose and then takes his hand away, "Your feelings. I'm so sorry. I... I... I mean why do you think I'm still here? I feel that way about you too, obviously, I just thought... I thought you knew about my magic, you prat!"

"Your what?"

"My... oh, you really didn't know... oh god." Merlin looks horrified, and Arthur, bitterly, can understand why.

"How long have you been magic, you utter... you idiot! You could be killed for this!"

"I was rather hoping you'd be a little more lenient than your father would've been, honestly," Merlin shrugs, staring at the floor.

Arthur takes a second to process this new information. He's a little upset that Merlin kept this from him, but man can he understand why he did. Aside from that, he can't seem to think of Merlin as anything other than a bumbling, clumsy, adorable idiot. The magic thing explains a lot, but it doesn't change how he feels about his manservant.

"If you think I could actually kill you, you're even more idiotic than you seem. I just told you. I love you, don't I? I could never kill you. This is new information to me, but it's you. It is a part of you. I could never hate even a small thing about you. And did you... did you say that you..."

"Yes, you prat. I do."

Awash in this realization, Arthur puts his hand to Merlin's neck, pulling him close, "Say it."

"I love you, Arthur Pendragon. I am yours until the day I die, I swear it."

"The feeling is mutual," Arthur says, and then finally kisses his manservant, mouths warm and wet and open against one another, before leading him to the bed and proceeding to make quite a few of his more elaborate dreams about Merlin come true.


End file.
